Keeping My Distance for the Good of it All
by who smiles
Summary: Wes discovers that he is halfway down the road of falling in love with the person he supposedly hates while juggling confusing feelings for a doctor he supposedly is indifferent towards. –Wes/Doc Ryan, Wes/Travis.


**Keeping My Distance for the Good of it All**

**Summary**: Wes discovers that he is halfway down the road of falling in love with the person he supposedly hates while juggling confusing feelings for a doctor he supposedly is indifferent towards. –Wes/Doc Ryan, Wes/Travis.

**notes**: i'm supposed to be on vacation, but this has to go up before tomorrow's episode. I don't particularly ship Wes/Doc Ryan but watevs man, I trust the writers. also, the only way I ship travis/wes is to have wes have one-sided feelings for travis a long damn time before travis gets over himself.  
**notes the second**: possibility of future chapters. if I ever get around to it.

* * *

"I've been having dreams about you."

The silence that filled the room was tangible. Beside him, Travis choked violently on his own snickers.

The fact that his professional partner made the whole situation all the more awkward for Wes. He hunkered down into his seat, suddenly too aware of the candlelight and the fact Dr. Ryan's mouth was parted in a slight 'o' of surprise. Wes hadn't imagined himself with any other person in months, and out of blue came _dreams…_

Wes shoved those thoughts aside. He needed to focus on the situation at hand.

"What…kind of dreams, Wes?"

Dr. Ryan was the least awkward thing about the whole fiasco. Wes cleared his throat and avoided her eyes; why were there candles? Whose idea was that? The light shone _just right _on her face, lighting up her eyes—

Travis' elbow was suddenly digging into his side, jolting Wes back into reality. He coughed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh," he searched for the right word.

"…unprofessional ones," he finished.

The silence reclaimed the air.

Dr. Ryan was obviously at a loss for words. Wes knew that this was the _worst way _to get a girl, even the doctor even counted as a girl. She was his counselor, for god's sake. That was wrong in so many shades…

"Well, Wes, I suppose I'm flattered," Dr. Ryan was saying, "but the two of us in a relationship would seem…inappropriate, would it not?"

Wes instantly blamed her accent. She just said 'flattered,' which in itself was an unflattering word, and made it sound _sexy._

"Yes, of course," Wes agreed, while Travis giggled behind his hand. "I'm aware of that, yes. I wasn't going to pursue these-" _don't say it, don'tsayit_ "-feelings-" _damn _"-initially. I don't know why I did, actually. Erm, I'm sorry if this is…uncomfortable."

And Travis _lost it_. He threw his head back and laughed long and hard, "Understatement of the _century_, dude," and when he clapped Wes' shoulder, something happened that shouldn't have happened.

Wes felt a spark.

Actually, he felt a whole damn _firework. _

Travis' laughter crossed the line from 'annoying' into 'pleasant' and Wes found himself smiling. Then he started, shook his head, and focused on Dr. Ryan again.

Her expression was apologetic, and even though she let him down easy, Wes still felt like he'd been hit by numerous trucks afterward. He thanked her (awkwardly) and left (awkwardly) with Travis in tow.

When they left the building, Travis threw his hand on his back again, and the fireworks returned full force. "Dude," Travis snorted, and Wes tried to ignore the fact that his heart was threatening to pump right out of his chest, "that was the _greatest_ thing I've seen all week."

"Glad at least one person found that enjoyable," Wes shot back sharply. He shrugged off Travis' hand and slumped into the driver's seat. His forehead hit the steering wheel with a _thump_. "Oh my _god_," he moaned in despair, the events of the past ten minutes hitting him hard, "that was painful."

"Oh, definitely. You coulda cut through the awkward with a butter knife," Travis said unhelpfully. "But on the bright side you can stop thinking through your pants now. You've been out of things for a week; I need you to catch these crooks. Can't do it alone, you know."

Wes tuned out after _I need you_. He stiffened in his seat. "Yeah," he said hastily. "Don't, uh, worry about me being distracted anymore."

"Not that I blame you in the first place," Travis continued. "Doc Ryan is really smokin'. She's an eight on her own, and the accent just bumps her up to a nine."

Wes _really _needed Travis to shut up. He was _perfectly aware _of Dr. Ryan's sexiness, he needed to be un-reminded of it. "Have there ever actually been tens on that stupid scale of yours?"

"There's me," Travis responded. He didn't elaborate, and Wes shook his head.

"Keeping things modest, I see."

"You're just jealous because you're only an eight."

Wes felt his heart stop. He took a slow, shaky breath. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You heard me," Travis leered. "You're clocked in as an eight. More of a seven-point-nine really."

"You _ranked_ me?"

Travis gave a non-committal shrug. "I got bored on that last stakeout. The cooking thing bumped up your score, too."

"I'm ignoring you, starting now." Wes hated the way his interest was piqued at the very idea of Travis finding him attractive.

"Are you getting weird on me?"

Wes nearly drove the car into a mailbox. He gritted his teeth and ignored that fact that Travis just about scared the pants off him. "You're going to have to use big-boy terms, Travis."

"Nevermind, man." Travis pulled out his phone, mumbling something that sounded like, "Fickle bitch," under his breath.

That phrase alone was its own turn off. Yet, somehow, Wes pinpointed that exact moment to be the moment when he realized he was close to being almost-in-love with Travis. He didn't know what, exactly, set things rolling, but he was pretty sure candidly discussing his attractiveness with his (arguably) platonic partner was a good guess.


End file.
